Little Bit Shy, Bit Strange, And A Little Bit Manic
by goregeousity
Summary: SuperWhoLock fic set at Hogwarts. All the characters of the various series as students at our favorite wizarding school. Characters from other fandoms might make appearances. AU. Rating may change.
1. Chapter 1

This is my NaNoWriMo projects for 2012. So I should be updating every day, or every other day. Please critique, I'm doing this to become a better writer. My tumblr is goregeousity, and many thanks to my beta!

* * *

"Okay, the trick is to not think about it. I was scared my first time too. And while this seems like something I would joke about, because, let's face it, it would be hilarious for you to run headlong into a wall and bash your face, I'm not about this." Dean put his arm around Sam's shoulder. "I promise, it'll be fine."

"Dean, I'm not even scared," Sam shrugged off his brother's attempts at comfort. "I've seen you do this three times." He might be Dean's baby brother, but that didn't mean he had to treat him like it all the time.

"Do you want me to go first, Sammy?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "No. I'll go, I'm fine." Dean looked at him, unconvinced. In response, Sam turned his cart around, and started walking backwards. "Look, ma, no hands," he said, letting the cart carry on without his touch by its own momentum. And just like that, Sam was on Platform 9 3/4.

Dean chuckled at his brother's antics. He knew he coddled Sam, but he couldn't help it. He'd practically raised the kid, until he got his letter from Hogwarts. When that happened, Dean had a crisis. He didn't want to leave Sam. He couldn't stay home, and he couldn't take Sam to Hogwarts with him. Which just left leaving him at home, alone. Their father, despite the best of intentions, was rather lacking in parenting skills. If never being home and leaving your two young sons to fend for them selves most of the time could be considered 'lacking'.

Dean snapped out of his reverie. It had only been a minute, but that was a minute more than he liked having Sam out of eyeshot. He quickly pushed through the wall, looking around for an unusually tall boy with unusually long hair before he'd even made it through.

He quickly spotted Sam, safe and sound, talking to a little blonde girl who looked about the same age. As Dean walked up behind Sam, he could hear his brother making jokes and talking about all the stories he'd heard about Hogwarts. Sam had always had a certain innocent charm about him, something that made everyone comfortable with his presence.

Sam felt his brother's presence and turned. "Hey! Dean, meet Jess. It's her first year too!" The girl blushed slightly and waved.

She looked up from the floor, and smiled at Dean. "But I don't have an older sibling to show me the ropes."

"You also don't have one to breathe down your neck," Sam quipped. Jess giggled nervously, glancing up at Dean, to make sure he wasn't mad.

But he wasn't, he was laughing. He ruffled Sam's hair. "I know it annoys you," Dean said, "But that's half the fun!" Just then, the train whistle blew. "We should head out. It was nice meeting you." He started to lead his younger brother towards the carriage doors, but stopped. "Do you want to invite your new friend to sit with us?"

Sam looked up at his brother in surprise. It wasn't normal for Dean to let someone into the Winchester circle. Especially since he'd only just met Jess, and today was special. But maybe it was the start of something new. Maybe Dean was letting Sam grow up. "Really?" Dean nodded in response. "Yeah, okay, great. I'll go get her!" And he ran off, back into the crowd.

* * *

Sherlock stared out the train window at the quickly passing landscape. Lestrade sat across from him, browsing the Daily Prophet. It was a poor choice in reading material, in Sherlock's opinion, more dedicated to hype than actual news, but he refrained from saying so. Just as he refrained from deducing Greg. A part of him instantly started doing so in his head whenever he saw Lestrade, but Sherlock kept his brain in check. Greg was one of the few people Sherlock would give simple privacy on obviously personal matters to. It was his way of saying thanks for the years of mentoring he received from the older boy.

Not many people put up with Sherlock. And on the rare occasions that they did, it was because they wanted answers. Outwardly, he brushed this fact off, giving the appearance that he didn't care; as long as they left him alone often enough, he even seemed to enjoy the sense of superiority he had when lording his intelligence over the other students, while simultaneously saying yes, he did enjoy it, but it had always been something he had, and having other people recognize it was of little consequence to him.

But in reality, it bothered Sherlock. It bothered him more than he cared to admit, even in his own head. He wanted someone to actually give a shit about him. To be his friend. He had Lestrade, yes, but it wasn't the same. They didn't hang out, didn't go adventuring, didn't even eat together. Lestrade was more of a brother to Sherlock than a comrade. More of a brother than Mycroft ever was. Even that, Sherlock suspected was more out of pity than out of any sort of brotherly affection. Greg had known Sherlock's brother, Mycroft,had seen how they treated each other, had seen how it left Sherlock badly scarred, mentally and emotionally.

Sherlock was grateful for this surrogate-brother relationship, though. Had he been given the choice, he wouldn't have picked anyone else. Lestrade was highly intelligent, one of the smartest men Sherlock had ever known, and yet he wasn't bitter, as such knowledge of the world so often made one. It was a fact Sherlock was quietly impressed with, and which evoked in him a great respect for Greg.

This was Lestrade's last year at Hogwarts. Sherlock was sure his mentor and almost brother was going to do great things with his life. He knew Greg would be a huge asset to the wizarding world, but he also selfishly wanted the older boy to stay. Sherlock did not relish the thought of the years without the protection of someone older to shield him from harassment. While most left Sherlock to his own devices, there were some who quite vehemently wished him harm. He could handle them, but he'd rather not face the problem when it could be easily quelled and avoided with the aid of Greg, an important and distinguished Gryffindor.

Not that all antagonism could be stopped all the time. Donovan and Anderson managed still to torment him. They were a grade below, yet somehow they still badgered Sherlock at every turn. He knew he had been lucky, though, to skate by with so little, when his persona begged for so much. Sherlock figured he'd pay for it later, do his time.

But all of that was a year away, and it was best not to dwell on it. Better to enjoy this while it lasted. Sherlock offered a small smile to the hills rolling by. This was his only friend's last year, and Sherlock was going to make sure it was a damned good one.

* * *

"The Doctor? Doctor what?" she smiled coyly, biting her lip.

"Just the Doctor."

"And what the hell kind of name is that?"

"The best kind."

The blonde girl laughed, and the tall boy grinned. He'd always had a way with women. Men too, most times.

"Well then, what's your name?"

"Why should I tell you mine if you won't tell me yours?"

"But I did tell you mine!" He paused. "On my life."

The girl met his stare. "Fine. Rose."

"Lovely to meet you, Rose." The Doctor looked about the cabin, eyes sweeping over the other girls and boys sitting with Rose. "Well, I'd best be off. It was a pleasure." He doffed his hat to the blonde, and leaned back so the doors could shut. But before they did, Rose stepped forward and held them open again.

"Wait just a minute. You can't just go running off like that."

"Why not?"

"Handsome, charming boy with a mysterious name shows up, and introduces himself to me? I'm not going let that slip away so easily. I won't let you."

"Come with me, then." The Doctor raised his eyebrows, challenging the younger girl.

The girl looked about at her cabin mates, before bringing her gaze back to the Doctor. "Yeah, alright."

The Doctor grinned. "Fantastic." He grabbed her by the hand, and pulled her out into the hallway.

Rose looked up at him with a questioning expression, "Where are we going?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Wherever we end up."

She gave a short laugh. "Well, allons-y!"

"Allons-y?" He looked a little surprised.

"Allons-y," she repeated, nodding.

He grinned and shouted, "Allons-y!"

And they ran down the hall.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam tried to make out what Dean and Jo were talking about. He couldn't hear over the din from the other students, but they were laughing. Sam wished he could be there, sitting next to them, instead of here, anxiously awaiting his future.

The headmistress stood, smiling, and the entire hall hushed. "Welcome to Hogwarts. For many of you, welcome back to Hogwarts. I am sure you are all eager to begin the year, so I wish you well."

Sam had expected a longer speech, but he couldn't complain. The quicker he got sorted, the quicker he could relax. But with a last name that started with a W, it was going to be a while.

His friend Jess was called first.

"Moore, Jessica." The blonde girl walked forward and turned to sit on the stool. Sam gave her an encouraging smile. The Sorting Hat was placed on her head. She cringed just a little, as everyone had. The hat took a few moments, deliberating where to put her. It bent forward just a bit, as if in thought. Finally, "Gryffindor!" it shouted.

Jess grinned as the hat was removed. She walked over to the table, taking a seat as all her fellow housemates clapped for her.

More students were called. Each was sorted, and a round of applause given every time. The first years were fairly evenly placed, with Hufflepuffs coming out just a bit ahead.

Sam waited his turn, as the number still standing dwindled. As it turned out, he was the last one to be called, but finally, his turn came.

"Winchester, Samuel." He climbed the steps, his stomach knotting itself even more tightly. The hat was placed on his head. It smelled musty and old, and Sam had to hold back a sneeze.

He waited, shivering slightly from nervousness. "Winchester, eh?" the hat whispered. Sam couldn't tell if the hat had said that out loud, or in his mind. "Well, if I judged by families, you ought to by all rights be in Gryffindor. But you're not like the rest of your family. No, indeed, you're not." Sam could feel it thinking, probing his mind further. "You've got the brains of a Ravenclaw, and the gentleness of a Hufflepuff. But there's something darker in you. Yes, there's a blackness tucked away in you. Interesting. Perhaps you're more suited to Slytherin."

That was when Sam started panicking.

"Oh? Not any of those houses then? Well, you've certainly got the determination of a Gryffindor. The house of the lions it is then. GRYFFINDOR!"

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. He was where he was supposed to be. Dean would be so proud. His house erupted into applause, hooting and cheering for him. Everyone loved a Winchester. Sam practically ran to the Gryffindor table. Dean and Jo moved apart, making space for him. He took his seat and Jo hugged as Dean ruffled his hair.

"I was worried for a second there, Sammy. I thought they were going to throw you in Hufflepuff."

Sam smiled, and elbowed his brother. "Dean, I'm pretty sure that counts as badgering."

His older brother laughed, but stopped as the headmistress stood up. "Let the feast begin."

—-

Sherlock didn't clap for the first years.

He didn't clap for anyone.

He didn't shout or whoop. He didn't even talk.

Instead he tried to guess which house they would be in before the hat could place them. He'd study their posture and the way they wore their uniform. He looked at how they kept their hair, and whom they stood by, if they talked, if they fiddled with things. He saw those mannerisms and he deduced. And 95% of the time, he was right.

Sherlock was satisfied with his average, but not pleased. There had been a number of students he got incorrect. Of course, not everything could be predicted, but seven people? He blamed it on distance from the first years, how he was unable to see or hear everything, but he knew it had more to do with his preoccupation about Lestrade.

He picked at the food on his plate. He always took some from three different dishes to give the appearance that he ate to those watching. He knew a few of the teachers were just looking for a reason to report him. Not eating enough could be a symptom of illness, which would get him out of their classes, at least for a time.

Sherlock didn't have any real interest in food. He didn't need to eat often. Some food here and there every few days kept him going. Along with lots of coffee. It wasn't the caffeine in coffee Sherlock desired, he just liked the taste. That didn't stop people from assuming he was some sort of super human being that ran on caffeine rather than sleep. After all, no one had seen Sherlock sleep. It frightened some of the younger students. Sherlock enjoyed that. Of course, he did sleep, but only rarely in the dorm.

As soon as it was acceptable, Sherlock left the dinning hall. There would be no classes tomorrow, which meant he could stay out tonight. And by stay out, he meant find a new hide away, and start to appropriate it to his needs.

At the start of each new year, and every few months after the fact, Sherlock would find some tucked away corner that no one knew about, and use it as his home base. He would furnish it with a big, plush chair, and several tables. He'd bring in basic lab equipment and books from the library. Plants from the green house too. Sherlock liked plants. They were good company. They required minimal care, and he could talk to them without having them judge him.

Of course, he couldn't carry plants around with him, but he didn't like to talk while he was on the go anyway. People could overhear him. It wouldn't do to have others knowing his business, even if his business was other people's business.

And so, Sherlock was off on the search. He walked down the hallways and up the moving stairs. The steps shifted as he was climbing them. "Good." He thought. The more things changed, the more he got lost, the more likely he was to find his spot. He had to be somewhere he didn't know, somewhere he found by chance, because that meant no one else was then likely to find it. Most students didn't stray off the beaten path at school, and if they did, they didn't go very far. The thrill of discovery was what made it fun, or so he'd heard.

Sherlock let his fingers trail along the massive stone walls of the school. The architecture was awe inspiring. The vaulted ceilings and carved columns. He took random turns. Sherlock tried every door he came to. Some were locked, some weren't. He didn't unlock the doors. He could have; a simple Alohomora would have done it easily, but locked doors at this school should stay that way. You couldn't be sure what was hiding behind them.

He tramped along, a random hallway, somewhere in school no one knew existed, until his brain caught up with his body. Then he stopped and walked backwards several steps. There. To his left. Just out of the corner of his eyes, there was a spot. A hole, in the stonework. It was behind a pillar, almost completely out of sight.

Sherlock peered around the column. It was a passage. A small one; quite narrow, barely large enough for two people. He followed it. "Lumos." He could see now, not far; the hall turned shortly.

He did the only logical thing: continued down it. It twisted back on itself several times, around and around and around. Slowly at first, then tighter. Sherlock figured he must have been at the heart of the circle now, doubting he could go much farther. And he was right. The hall emptied out at an iron stairwell. It too, spiraled. Up and up, past the light his wand shed.

Sherlock ascended. Farther and farther up he went, to dizzying heights. Well, they would be dizzying if Sherlock was afraid of heights, and if Sherlock had looked down. Instead, Sherlock was looking at the railings. There was no dust on them, despite obvious signs of disuse. They were rusted over; the metal missing is some spots.

And it was beginning to get chilly. Not that Hogwarts had ever been a particularly warm building, but it was starting to feel like outside. None of this deterred Sherlock from continuing. The exercise paid off, because the stairs ended on the roof.

The roof of Hogwarts. That was something not even Sherlock could have foreseen, in all his infinite knowledge. He didn't even know such a thing was possible. But apparently it was, and he was standing on it.

From here he could see the entire grounds, and across the lake. He felt like he was on top of the world. "This will do," he thought. "This will do just fine."

—-

The pair of them could hear the roar from the dining hall even at this distance.

It was exhilarating to be breaking school rules. Everyone always attended the sorting ceremony, but not the Doctor. And now, neither did Rose.

Instead, they were sliding down the banisters of the great staircases.

It was the Doctor's idea. Rose had resisted at first, bringing up the possibility of falling. However, she was assured she would be caught, if she did fall, though it was unlikely that she would.

And so began their competition. At first they slid down sitting, just getting used to it. Then, no hands. And then the staircases moved.

Rose screamed bloody murder when that happened, while the Doctor laughed his arse off. "Oh my god! Help me!" she shrieked at him. "I'm going to kill you! This isn't funny!" but she didn't get off the railing.

The Doctor jumped from his stair to hers, smirking at the girl. "That was brilliant! And they say Hufflepuffs don't know how to have fun."

Rose playfully smacked the older boy, laughing. "They say the same thing about Ravenclaws, mister!"

"Clearly you've never been to a Ravenclaw party."

"I didn't even know they existed," the third year said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, the day after exams, everyone goes nuts. Confetti, alcohol," He gestured wildly, "a surprising lack of clothes."

"Oh yeah? Do you go nuts?"

"I'm always nuts." The Doctor looked delighted by this fact. Craziness was his self identifier. Rose liked that. Hogwarts had its fair share of loony people, pretenders, eccentrics, and even some psychos, but none like him.

"Nuts enough to race me down, even though you know I'll win?" Rose challenged.

The fifth year eyed her, sizing her up. "Almost certainly." He hopped onto the banister of the stair they were on. "It would be my pleasure, in fact, to beat you."

"You're very cocky, you know that?" Rose asked, assuming her place on the opposite rail.

"Yes, but for good reason." He leaned forward and deadpanned, "I always win."

And with that, they were off, slipping down, hands in the air.

They were both going fast, the wind blowing back Rose's hair. She was smiling from ear to ear, watching her opponent, and leaning into the slope, trying to make herself go faster.

The Doctor saw her start to take the lead and decided it was time for some evasive action. He hopped mid slide, sailing through the air, no longer touching the railing, reducing the friction to only air. He whooped, sheer joy in his voice. He landed with an "Oomph," and did it again.

"You're mad!" she screamed, seeing him do this, even as she herself did the same thing, bouncing off.

"Of course I'm mad!" he screamed back. "That's the fun of it!"

Again they were neck and neck, and the end approached. Rose watched the landing rush at them. She wasn't sure she would be able to stop in time. "Oh god, oh god, oh god!"

And they both went flying off the end of the banister.

There was a crash landing. The Doctor and Rose ended up in a pile, giggling and aching from hitting a stone floor. "I won!" the Doctor declared, sitting up, a victory arms in the air.

"You so did not!" Rose tackled his arm, dragging it down. "I won, and you know it!"

"Maybe, but you only won because of my jumping technique."

"So you're admitting I won, then." She grinned at him, from on top.

"I didn't say that!"

Rose's eyes widened. "You so did!" She stood up, throwing both her hands up, "I am the champion of banister racing!" She did a little dance "Take that, Mister 'I always win'!"

The Doctor made a face at his opponent. "Fine. Rematch?"

Rose flipped her hair over her shoulder, pulling the boy up. "Sure, but it's not going to make any difference, I'll still win."

"Is that so?"


End file.
